Turnabout Apocalypse (Part I: The Great Panic)
by 6GunSally
Summary: Isolated and alone, two lawyers in a lawless world manage to survive long enough to join forces. There's only one thing left to do, rescue everyone else! How our favorite AA characters survived the great panic... WARNING: this is a zombie apocalypse story, don't make me spell it out... ;).
1. Prologue: The Human Element

_**Disclaimer: Ace Attorney and all characters are copyright by CAPCOM; World War Z: An Oral History of the Zombie War, all incidences and characters were created by Max Brooks. I'm just a fan, imitating. The stories presented are influenced by the multiple games as well as the comic (Manga written by Kenji Kuroda), and the book World War Z: An Oral History of the Zombie War.**_

_**This story is set several months following **__**Bridge to the Turnabout**__** (Phoenix Wright: Ace Attorney: Trials and Tribulations)**_ _**and in the early years of the Zombie War.**_

* * *

**Prologue**

**The Human Element**

* * *

"…[T]here are simply not enough resources to care for all the physical and psychological casualties. It is because of this enemy, the enemy of time, that I have forsaken the luxury of hindsight and published these survivors' accounts. Perhaps decades from now, someone will take up the task of recording the recollections of the much older, much wiser survivors. Perhaps I might even be one of them.

Although this is primarily a book of memories, it includes many of the details, technological, social, economic and so on, found in the original Commission Report, as they are related to the stories of those voices featured in these pages. This is their book, and mine, and I have tried to maintain as invisible a presence as possible. Those questions included in the text are only there to illustrate those that might have been posed by readers. I have attempted to reserve judgment or commentary of any kind, and if there is a human factor that should be removed, let it be my own."

—Max Brooks

from the preface of the 1st Edition:

World War Z: An Oral History of the Zombie War.

* * *

The publication and subsequent popularity of World War Z: An Oral History of the Zombie War, is a testament to just how deeply our collective psyche has been scarred by this tragic "war". No life left on this earth hasn't been affected.

Even those of us who were considered "lucky" enough to survive the Great Panic and more than a decade of war without having to lose our families or struggle through the worst of the hardships—we are traumatized. We are changed.

We, the children of survivors, the ones who've never known a world where this never happened—we are forever different because of it. For me, working as a junior intern for the United Nation's Postwar Commission, and hearing these stories firsthand, was like learning something secret, but true and unknowable about the fires from whence we came. By 'we', I mean the denizens this hardened and grateful new world that we live in.

Even as I write this, the news still reports every day on the number of G's burned in some forgotten corner of the world. The cause of this hasn't been eradicated—not yet. We just learned how to live with it. To this day, whole areas of our country are still off limits and military personnel in armor still seek out and destroy the residual threat.

Because it is still a threat. This war isn't over. Not yet. Maybe never.

How many stories have you heard of Zack coming with the melting snow? Zack crawling out of the sea? Zack under the house at the end of the street?

We still fight. We still hope. And we still survive.

In my travels for the UNPC, I was fortunate enough to witness survivors who'd seen and experienced a lot of the same things that Mister Brooks covered in World War Z. It goes without saying that to cover so extensive and exhaustive a population of the world requires a much broader and detailed book—maybe several. So I've put up my own to add to the dozens of survivor stories, histories, and personal accounts of the Zombie War.

My journey began with a team from the UNPC, charged with the daunting task of recording mostly facts, statistics—the tangible things that can be used to check progress in reconstruction efforts and to build nice charts and graphs to present to world leaders. I found myself often stopping a person I was interviewing to turn focus back to these tangibles.

Then I met him—a man with a story I couldn't ignore. That interview was my first and after that I took down stories wherever I went. If it weren't for that interview, I might've stuck to the facts, and the amazing survivors—the amazing humans I'd had the pleasure of meeting on that journey might not have been heard.

His name was Phoenix Wright, a criminal defense attorney in another life, and co-founder of Stand Up!, which helps West Coast survivors re-integrate into communities. This one is for him.

Sally A. Rider  
Atlanta, GA  
April 5, 2054


	2. Chapter 1: Rumors

_**Disclaimer: Ace Attorney and all characters are copyright by CAPCOM; World War Z: An Oral History of the Zombie War, all incidences and characters were created by Max Brooks. I'm just a fan, imitating. The stories presented are influenced by the multiple games as well as the comic (Manga written by Kenji Kuroda), and the book World War Z: An Oral History of the Zombie War.**_

_**This story is set several months following **__**Bridge to the Turnabout**__** (Phoenix Wright: Ace Attorney: Trials and Tribulations)**_ _**and in the early months of the Zombie War.**_

* * *

**Part 1**

**Chapter 01**

**Rumors**

* * *

**May 8, 2052**

**Stand Up! SoCal**

**Southern California Greater Metropolis, California**

* * *

_[Stand Up! Is a private venture begun in the Rocky Mountains to build communities in the Western United States. Although most of the support, technical, medical and what have you comes from large government agencies like DeStRes, Stand Up! focuses on rebuilding infrastructure within the community, by the community, for the community. Phoenix Wright isn't who you'd expect to run an operation as large as this. He has a broad disarming smile and dark hair that's graying although he wears it in spikes—like an old punk rocker. He stops what he's doing to greet me and beckons me inside his hut. The epicenter of Stand Up! in Southern California.]_

* * *

I'm glad you came. We don't get too many visitors around here anymore—well the mailman comes every six months or so—but… Anyway, welcome to Stand Up! SoCal.

**[We share a few pleasantries; he shakes my hand like he's known me for years.]**

We are trying to manage on a smaller scale what Arthur Sinclair is trying to do with DeStRes in the Safe Zones in the mountains further east. I mean we were kind of doing it already, the few of us that managed to survive out here. No one helped us when it started in LA, no we had to do it on our own—

**[Were you living in LA during the Great Panic?]**

Yeah, I mean, it was my home—all of my friends—my job—I couldn't just abandon everything. I'm not going to lie, there were a lot of us, professionals—lawyers, judges, doctors, educators, businessmen—too caught up in our own lives to really accept what was happening. It's like everyone figured if we could ignore the problem long enough, it would go away.

**[Did you really believe that?]**

Well, it was easier to believe that than the dead waking up and sweeping across the world. That didn't make sense—not back then. We were here for a purpose, to protect the law, to sanctify it. We didn't have time for crazy stories about people rising from the dead…

For me, it was a bad time all around—I'd been disbarred only a few months before. I was at the top of my game, I was renowned, famous even—so when I fell, I fell pretty hard. I lost contact with a lot of my closest friends—mostly of my own accord—it's…

It's complicated…

**[So you were a lawyer?]**

[He shrugs] That was all over before this crap began… But I had Trucy to worry about, so I got pretty caught up in everything that was going on before the panic.

**[What was going on?]**

You know. The 'pre-panic' panic. The 'it won't happen to you if you take this vaccine' panic—stuff like that. With Trucy, I couldn't leave things up to chance, you know.

Poor kid… Her dad took off, her grandfather was murdered—no one had a clue about her mom—I mean, I couldn't just abandon her to the system. Plus part of me hoped I might get my badge back—that was before all of this started. It kind of seems silly now.

**[He looks wistful for a moment, but he doesn't smile.]**

So there I was, a disgraced attorney, raising a little girl on my own—I'll admit, I wasn't really in the most stable mind frame. I had way too much going on; too much to worry about. So maybe I wasn't paying as much attention to the world around me as I should have been.

African Rabies—that's what they were calling it back then. It was a far away thing, other peole's problems—so I didn't care, I had problems of my own. I don't know how many times I had to hear the horror stories before I even tried to get us vaccinated—Trucy and me, I mean.

I really only went because of Trucy.

* * *

**July 19, 2019**

**Wright Anything Agency**

**Los Angeles, California**

* * *

Phoenix paid the cab and took Trucy's hand to help her step out of the cab. It was an expensive trip, even though the traffic was such that they still has several blocks to walk.

"Daddy," Trucy said, "Why are there so many people?"

"It's just rush hour, Truce, happens every day."

"I don't think I've ever seen it this crowded before."

"Don't worry about it sweetheart," Phoenix paused and bent down to pick her up, "Just don't let go of me. Nothing will happen as long as we stay together."

"Is there something that might happen?"

Trucy's wide, earnest blue eyes bored into him. Phoenix cursed himself for saying too much. He couldn't hide that he was worried. Not from Trucy.

She just always seemed to know.

"So where are we going, Daddy?"

"To the pharmacy. To get our Phalanx shots."

"Shots? Why? I don't want—"

"Trucy," Phoenix said, "It's for our safety."

"From what? African Rabies? The news says it wont come here."

"I know, but just in case," Phoenix said, "Because I don't want anything to happen to you."

Trucy frowned and leaned against his shoulder. She had her arms around his neck. She wasn't heavy, but eight was a little too old to be carried—but Phoenix didn't want to risk losing her in the crowd.

The mass of humanity grew heavier and more tightly packed as they neared the pharmacy. He didn't have to get in line. He could see the outraged customers being turned away from a block out. Phoenix hefted his little girl and turned around.

They must've tried three or four different places before Phoenix decided to turn toward home. They stopped in a grocery store on the way home. Trucy wanted apples.

He grabbed a bag of apples. The store was more crowded than usual, but no one was acting like it was the end of the world. That was a relief.

Phoenix let Trucy push the cart with a small five-pound bag of apples in the child seat.

"Daddy, can we have peanut butter and jelly for dinner?"

Phoenix chuckled—he was hoping for something more substantial himself, but he ought to pick up bread and milk.

"Sure, Truce," he said.

There were only a dozen or so jars of peanut butter left on the shelf. It usually stocked several dozen in several brands and flavors.

Phoenix frowned and took four jars instead of one. Trucy was watching him with no small amount of concern wrinkling her young brow.

"Daddy?"

"Come on, I guess it wouldn't hurt to stock the pantry."

He got what he could as far as canned food and ramen—so much ramen. Maya would be in heaven—so would Detective Gumshoe…

Phoenix felt his heart rise to his throat as the cashier rung up his order. She didn't seem surprised at all. He'd have to use his credit card. Spending money he didn't have.

On the plus side, if the world did end—which really seemed plausible, more so than Y2K which he remembered his mom laughing at that when he was a kid—he wouldn't have to worry about it.

As Trucy perched on the end of the shopping cart while he pushed it home, Phoenix started to wonder if he was letting all of the panic and worry get to him. This was just another case of mass hysteria, right? Nothing was going to happen.

* * *

**May 8, 2052**

**Stand Up! SoCal**

**Southern California Greater Metropolis, California**

* * *

_[The Stand Up! compound boasts its own meat processing plant. It's really a quickly erected metal barn where one or two cows from the herd are slaughtered every other week or so. Franziska is in charge of Ranch Operations. When I first meet her she flicked her whip at me, as if I were one of those cows. We almost didn't have this interview.]_

* * *

Who are you? Why do you care? Are you from the government? Because then I am not interested. I don't want your rules and your organization, and I certainly don't care for your 're-distribution'. Go away.

**[She threatens to strike me with her whip as she walks away from me. I tell her that Phoenix Wright sent me to interview her.]**

Interviewing? For what?

**[I explain my role with the UNPC.]**

Oh. Very well then.

**[She leads me into a small mud walled hut. A lovely young woman is there, nursing a baby, but they leave almost as soon as we enter and sit down. I explain the interview process and the transcriber—she nods at me impatiently.]**

I am Franziska Von Karma. I am in charge of the Ranching.

**[Where you living here during the Great Panic?]**

Hmmm. Yes. I was a prosecutor for the High Courts in Cohdopia. I moved to Los Angeles that year because of the chaos in some parts of Cohdopia and the surrounding region.

**[She pauses, like she wants to add something. Then she turns away from me for a moment. When she looks at me again it's with that same icy stare. She is cool and composed.]**

Actually, he made me come here.

He's always been rather closed with… …information. Especially, how he felt…

**[She hesitates again]**

Miles Edgeworth was a prosecutor for one of the districts in Los Angeles. He was the Chief Prosecutor, actually… He was investigating a murder with a detective… Um… Richard Gumshoe.

Oh, they've worked together for years. I think that's why he took it so hard. The world was turning into such a mad place and they were just trying to do their jobs. Miles called it 'maintaining the status quo'. He was very single minded about that.

I think we all were.

* * *

**July 23, 2019**

**District Courthouse**

**Los Angeles, California**

* * *

**May 8, 1:17 P.M.**

**District Court**

**Courtroom No. 4**

"OBJECTION!" Kristoph Gavin shouted and some how his ridiculous subtle smirk carried in his voice.

Edgeworth only crossed his arms, "What now?"

"Don Tuchim just said he was at his house watching the five o'clock news," Gavin said, "How could he have witnessed the murder from his kitchen window and watch the news from his living room?"

"He didn't say he was in his living room," Edgeworth said tapping his index finger impatiently, "Your Honor perhaps we should ask the witness to clarify?"

"Right," the Judge said, "Witness! Where were you when you saw the five o'clock news came on?"

"Um…" Mister Tuchim was shaking on the stand, "I was in my kitchen Your Honor."

"OBJECTION!" Gavin shouted again.

"Not again," Edgeworth said.

"Overruled," the Judge said, "Moving on…"

"Overruled?! What—why?"

"Because you're shouting objections for no good reason," Edgeworth said, "How is it that Phoenix Wright should be disbarred, but a foo—"

"OBJECTION!" Gavin said.

"Of course," Edgeworth said, "If the defense is done with the cross-examination, I should like to call my next witness."

"Wait! I have one more question," Gavin said, "Mister Tuchim, you said you saw a second man on the other side of the street walking his dog. Do you know who that man was?"

"No, he was just another guy walking by."

"So you wouldn't have been able to pick that man—the second bystander—you wouldn't be able to identify him in say, a police line-up?"

"No, I don't think so…"

"OBJECTION!" Gavin said.

Edgeworth only glared.

Gavin whipped out a document and held it up to the judge, "Your Honor, that statement contradicts this evidence right here."

"I fail to see how—" the judge began. Edgeworth pounded the prosecution table and grimaced at him.

"This, Your Honor, is a sworn statement given by this witness after he was asked to pick out the second bystander from a police line-up."

Edgeworth gave him a smirk and wagged his finger at him, "Tsk. Tsk. Mister Gavin, since you've somehow acquired confidential police documents, I needn't explain to you then, that an investigation of that man turned up no further evidence in the murder of Sum Yungai. It was, as some like to describe it, a red herring."

"The defense motions that the murderer in this case was none other than bystander number two!"

Edgeworth stared. The judge blinked. The courtroom erupted in a burst of chatter.

"I can't even justify that claim with an objection… Your Honor, the defense is making preposterous claims! How can you accuse an innocent bystander of murder when we have proof that the defendant was on the scene at the time of the murder and an eye-witness that clearly saw him commit the crime?"

"Nobody standing by is innocent," Gavin said.

"Why don't I just point the finger at you and say you did it?" Edgeworth said.

The Judge smacked his gavel, "All right! Order!"

"Mister Edgeworth," the judge said, "Can you get bystander number two in here?"

"Why? The defense is just stalling for time—he has no grounds to accuse that individual—"

"Mister Edgeworth, are you arguing with me?"

Edgeworth glared at the Judge.

"I'm sorry Your Hon—Mister Edgeworth!" the Judge said and leaned back on the bench, "But we cannot condemn a man for murder when we haven't eliminated all doubt. Can you have the witness brought here and prepared for testimony in the next thirty minutes?"

"Yes, Your Honor," Edgeworth said.

Gavin smiled. The glare glinted off of his spectacles obscuring his pale eyes. Edgeworth clenched his jaw and glared daggers at him.

The Judge smacked his gavel, "Thirty minute recess! We will convene in thirty minutes to settle this case! That is all!"

He smacked his gavel again and the crowd started to disperse. The defendant was lead out into the defense lobby by the bailiff and followed by Gavin. Edgeworth hesitated and then exited into the prosecution lobby.

"Gumshoe!"

"Yes, sir!" Gumshoe shuffled toward him from the direction of the windows, "What's going on Mister Edgeworth, sir?"

"We need to find bystander number two—I mean, Wong Pace."

"Oh, hey pal! I remember that guy—we had him in the line-up—"

"I know," Edgeworth said, "Can you get him over here ASAP? The defense wants to question him."

"Why? They're wasting their time—"

"Just get Wong Pace over here," Edgeworth said, "I'm pretty sure I know what they're up to—but I have to do what the Judge says."

"You can count on me, Pal," Gumshoe said and shot off a salute, "I'll have him back in no time!"

Edgeworth went to see the clerks after Gumshoe left and filed the requisite forms—cursing Gavin in his head after each one was filed. He spent the rest of the time pacing the corridor.

Gumshoe was true to his word. He entered the corridor looking a little disheveled and led the cuffed Wong Pace into one of the witness rooms. Edgeworth followed solemnly notepad at the ready.

The three of them sat, chairs pulled in a semi-circle and Edgeworth checked his watch. They had nineteen minutes to prep the witness, Gumshoe had been true to his word.

"Good afternoon, Mister Pace," Edgeworth said, "My name is Miles Edgeworth, I'm the prosecutor in this trial. You've been asked to take the stand and testify as to what you witnessed—"

Wong Pace jerked in his chair. Worried that the man was having a seizure, Edgeworth ordered that he be un-cuffed. They laid him out on the floor.

"What do you think is wrong with him?" Gumshoe asked.

"I don't know," Edgeworth said, "Epilepsy, perhaps… But I'm not sure… Watch his mouth—he's liable to bite his own tongue off, or your finger."

Gumshoe tried to hold the man's head steady.

"He told me he wasn't feeling well," Gumshoe said, "I sure hope it isn't—"

"Don't start that again!" Edgeworth stood and started to pace. He checked his watch—seventeen minutes left. This wasn't going to end well.

Suddenly Wong Pace stopped trembling. He lay still. Gumshoe stared and then checked for a pulse, placing two large fingers on the jutting vein on the man's neck.

Edgeworth stopped and stared apprehensively, "Is he…?"

"Yeah Pal," Gumshoe said, "He just stopped breathin—GAAAAH! What the—!"

Edgeworth jumped back several steps in shock.

Wong Pace had Gumshoe's wrist in his mouth and was turning his head jerkily side to side like a dog gnawing meat from a bone.

"Gumshoe!"

"WAAAAH!"

Edgeworth wasn't thinking—he just moved. He ran in behind Gumshoe and took him under the arms and pulled him away from the biting man. He tried to. Gumshoe was so much bigger than him.

Eventually, Gumshoe tore his wrist away from the thing.

"Edgeworth!" Gumshoe screamed, "Get the hell out of here!"

"What—" Edgeworth stared at the big detective. His feet suddenly felt like lead—he was frozen in his terror.

Gumshoe pulled out his gun and fired into the man's chest, the gun—a Springfield 1911—fired a large enough round to knock a man down. This man took three in the chest and continued to struggle.

Gumshoe slammed into the prosecutor and started shoving him toward the door, "Miles you have to save yourself!"

"I'll call 9-1-1…" Edgeworth said absently.

He didn't notice how incongruously calm his own voice was or how badly his hands were shaking.

Gumshoe dropped his gun and stared at his bleeding wrist. Whatever happened to that guy, he wasn't human anymore. A chunk was torn from Gumshoe's wrist and the arm of his trench coat was soaked in blood.

"You have to put pressure on the wound," Edgeworth said and he reached down to pick up Gumshoe's gun.

The thing let out a moan and started to shuffle to its feet. Edgeworth fired.

He was a terrible shot, but the 1911 was a heavy gun with a steady recoil—he fired again and again and again. He kept firing until the thing was nearly decapitated and Gumshoe stopped him and took the gun away. Everything seemed like it was happening in slow motion—like a messed up dream.

Edgeworth was staring at the bloody mass of Wong Pace on the floor, shaking like a nine-year-old who'd just learned his father had been shot in the heart.

He looked up at Gumshoe, "NO! Don't!"

Gumshoe pulled the trigger.

BANG!

* * *

**A/N: So it begins… Please tell me what you think! (good, bad, stupid… or whatever…)**

I hope this isn't too melodramatic… Anyone wondering about the interview scenes, that's my weird homage to World War Z. (Awesome book—not so awesome movie…)

**Timeline:**

This takes place a couple months after Phoenix loses his badge (April 2019ish) so AA4 and everything else after never happens. The chapters are kind of long, because there are only 5 in each part. But it covers the three main parts of the WWZ timeline (just shifts everything to the right) You don't really have to be into WWZ to get this story, but you'll be lost if you don't know AA stuff… Sorry…


	3. Chapter 2: Zero Day

**Part 1**

**Chapter 02**

**Zero Day**

* * *

**May 8, 2052**

**Stand Up! SoCal**

**Southern California Greater Metropolis, California**

* * *

**[Phoenix takes a moment to compose himself.]**

It was like that. One day it was business as usual and the next day Pandemonium. I can't distinguish one day from another—it was just one long fucked up night. Later I found out that several months—four or five—had passed.

The way they poured into the city attested to the fact that Zack had been in the area for a long time. Just waiting in the periphery, feeding and growing their numbers and biding their time. No one told us anything.

At that point the folks with the means and a destination had already been gone for months. Those of us that stayed were already corralled and trapped in the center of the city.

**[When did you realize what was really happening?]**

It started with what's-her-name. That reporter. At first everyone called her a hero. She was the first one to come out with the truth. But we didn't need the truth right then. She's the reason for the panic.

At least, that's what I believe. Her story broke and that's when the world ended. That's when it started anyway.

**[Why didn't you get out of the city?]**

I wanted to, don't get me wrong. But I didn't really have a way out. I didn't have a car and I didn't have anybody nearby that I could travel with. I wasn't willing to put Trucy in danger. Not by sneaking around with those ghouls everywhere. So I holed us up in my apartment.

I figured if we could keep the monsters out long enough, we'd get rescued.

**[Were you rescued?]**

Yeah.

**[He's quiet all of a sudden, and his eyes go distant as if he's remembering something.]**

Of course, Trucy and I were there for at least four months. It felt like years.

* * *

**October 11, 2019**

**Wright Anything Agency**

**Los Angeles, California**

* * *

Phoenix awoke in the pre-dawn stillness and blinked into the gray light filtering between the seams of the boards he'd used to cover the windows. Trucy stirred beside him.

Maybe it was taboo or wrong to let his nine-year-old daughter share the bed, but he'd rather not let her out of his sight. Especially when they had to do things that garnered his full attention—like sleeping.

"Morning, Daddy," she said while stifling a yawn.

"Morning, sweetheart," Phoenix said and he pushed himself up from the bed and went to relieve himself.

They'd lost water pressure about a month ago, but the taps ran and the toilets flushed with the aid of a bucket. Electricity had gone out even before they'd lost the water. Phoenix went into the kitchen and turned on the small transistor radio, waiting for news. Today was as quiet as the day before.

The static fizzed and then whirred and buzzed as he rolled through the channels, but the airwaves were silent.

They had run out of bread almost at the beginning, but he'd found several boxes of kosher Matzos. They were dry and very bland, but with a little peanut butter they were tolerable. The breakfast of champions.

He heard Trucy pouring water to flush the toilet while he buttered a Matzo for her and one for himself. He was glad he'd stocked up on peanut butter. This was probably the only reason they hadn't starved to death.

Neither of them spoke while they ate and when they were done, Trucy put on her coat and draped the strap of her satchel over her head so that it hung crosswise over her chest. Phoenix carried his old duffel bag the same way.

He handed Trucy her pipe—it was a piece of aluminum piping salvaged from a bit of abandoned scaffolding. Phoenix carried a tire-iron that he'd managed to sharpen on one end over the last several weeks. He looked at his daughter. She nodded determinedly at him.

Phoenix straightened his beanie and took her hand and led her outside.

The world was so much different now. It was over-bright in the daylight and pitch-black at night. The city seemed quiet and deserted now. The first month or so was madness—and Phoenix refused to leave the apartment.

But after almost three months, he was forced to come out and scavenge. He wasn't about to leave Trucy in there alone. Not if she risked being abandoned with no news of him—no, it was better this way. He could at least teach her to protect herself.

Actually, they rarely encountered any zombies these days. Most of the ghouls left in this part of the city had been broken and rotted to the point where there was little danger of being hurt by them.

Phoenix and Trucy trudged through the rubble that had accumulated on their street. The building that used to stand across the street had fallen early in the panic due to fire. It left a dangerous pile of sheet rock and concrete for them to navigate just to get out of their building. It also made it difficult for anyone trying to enter the building—especially if said individual was undead and therefore unthinking.

"Come on," Phoenix said encouraging his daughter to get in front of him. He picked her up under her armpits and lifted her to the top of the rubble pile in front of them. When she'd found her footing, he let her go and pulled himself up. They stared out at their old neighborhood. The spires and glass of the city glistened in the distance.

"Should we try the park today, Daddy?" Trucy asked.

"I don't know," Phoenix said, "I still want to try and find Hypermart."

"It used to seem so close," Trucy said, disappointment evident in her voice.

"Come on," Phoenix said, "the days are getting shorter."

He led the way down the rubble and they hiked along the street at a steady clip. Both of them hardened to the march over the last several weeks. They stayed in the open street as much as possible, the better to see if Zack showed up. True, it was also easier to be seen—but Zack was not going to out run them with his shuffling.

Once or twice in their travels, they'd encountered others—but anyone out in this wasteland seemed more inclined to keep to themselves.

"It's too bad," Phoenix said thoughtfully while they walked, "I think this would be easier if we could form a group. But everyone around here is paranoid and scared."

"Why are they so afraid of other people?"

"I don't know Truce, some people are just like that."

"How long do you think we'll be here alone like this?"

"Hopefully not much longer," Phoenix said grimly, "I don't know how things will be over the winter."

"Good thing we're in California, huh Daddy?"

Phoenix only smiled—he wasn't so sure anymore.

* * *

**May 8, 2052**

**Stand Up! SoCal**

**Southern California Greater Metropolis, California**

* * *

_[Following a tour of the Stand Up! ranching and farming operations, Franziska Von Karma brings me back to the complex where Phoenix Wright had organized management operations. There's a building marked 'Security' where she introduces me to Shi Long Lang. He's a handsome fellow with the lean hard build of a fighter. His hair and beard are graying, but there's a certain youthfulness to his demeanor. He gives me an arrogant, wolfish grin before offering me a seat.]_

* * *

They let a kid like you wander out here alone?

**[He laughs at me and then shakes his head, arms held out in an open display of surrender.]**

It's home now. I have nowhere else that I want to go. My children, they have children of their own. Such is life I think. Lang Zi says: 'the harried wolf will make a home with his pack.' This is where my pack is.

**[Do you know who Miles Edgeworth is?]**

Sure. Everybody knows him.

**[Ms. Von Karma told me about Detective Gumshoe and what—]**

Oh. I see. Yeah, it was very tragic what happened to the detective. I was in the area on business with Interpol—then there was nothing to go home to.

**[He hesitates for a moment and then grins at me.]**

But you don't care about that. Nobody ever asks about Zheng Fa…

**[What happened to Zheng Fa?]**

I don't want to talk about it. So… Where was I? Ah yes, you wanted to talk about Edgeworth. He's related to Franziska somehow—from what I gathered. She doesn't talk about it.

I guess he was very upset about the detective. A lot of people were; this Gumshoe fellow was a rather popular guy. I'd only met him in passing—during that Cohdopian smuggling case… Back then, things like that still mattered.

**[He laughs at his comment and then he laughs at me for jerking in surprise. He even laughs like a wolf.]**

There was a funeral and a memorial—I remember that much. Then things sort of went crazy and Edgeworth disappeared. Franziska, myself, and a few of our closest friends—including Edgeworth—were supposed to get on a ship. But Edgeworth never showed; so of course, Franziska had to find him. Next thing you know, we'd gone and missed our departure.

Just as well, I suppose. The cursed thing sank.

**[Were you supposed to embark on the "Zephyr Son"? He smiles at my question.]**

No, actually. But I did hear about that one. Nasty business that was. Either way, none of us made it onboard any ship—thanks to Edgeworth. He'd kind of lost his mind. Well, don't let Franziska hear you say it that way…

I don't particularly like prosecutors—for personal reasons. But Miles Edgeworth wasn't a bad one. He just—I guess when there's no more law, a lawyer's got no purpose.

**[What do you do here? With the Stand Up! Organization?]**

Security. It's kind of been my thing since the world ended. You drop one hat and pick up another. Most of us did that with no question.

Most of us.

* * *

**August 12, 2019**

**Terminal Island**

**Los Angeles, California**

* * *

"Franziska! Let's go!"

Lang's roar was nearly drowned out in the mass of humanity surging toward the ships. Even if he could get her to follow, it might already be too late. He could see her as she drifted away from him in the crowd—heading in the wrong direction.

"Franziska!"

Lang let go of the suitcase he was carrying; these things didn't matter right then. They were replaceable. She was not.

"Franziska!"

"Lang!" She yelled back and after a brief pause to glare in his direction, she turned back toward the mainland.

"Franziska! Stop!"

"I'm not going without him!"

Lang muttered a few curses under his breath. He kept after her, hoping that he wouldn't lose her in the mass of people.

Things had been bad for a while. Then when that reporter came out and told the truth, all hell had broken loose. But he wasn't surprised. Because he'd heard about Detective Gumshoe. He'd spoken about it with Edgeworth.

He pushed through, against the surging crowds. Franziska had somehow gone so far ahead of him he couldn't make her out anymore.

"Franziska!"

His ears buzzed with incoherent shouts from the masses surrounding him. There was no order here. Order had died with news of the plague.

"Franziska!"

Lang pressed on until the crowds thinned. He stopped just outside of the parking lot. The people amassed in the fenced off area weren't running or pressing. No. They shuffled and shambled and crawled. Lang stopped in his tracks and soon found himself standing alone as the crowds continued toward the dock.

He pulled back from the arms that wrapped themselves around his.

"Lang!" Franziska said, "Let's go! Not that way!"

He couldn't believe they were running toward the city.

"Franziska, the ship will get under—"

"I don't care, you fool," she said, "I'm not leaving without him."

"He might already be—"

"You will not say foolish things in front of me," she said and left it at that.

Lang had no choice but to follow her.

Maggey Byrde took them to her place. Lang wasn't sure how the meeting had transpired, but she was there waiting for them with the Faraday girl. They sat in her cramped studio apartment and stared at each other for several minutes. No one wanted to speak up. Finally Franziska broke the silence.

"My brother is a fool," she said and stood to peer out of the window.

"I can't believe he—he wouldn't… Would he?" Kay said. Her face twisted in a mix of sadness and anger. She lifted her gloved fist and waved it in the air.

"I'm upset about Gummy too!" She said, "But you don't see me—"

"Edgeworth is not at his home," Franziska said, "and neither is the dog. So I think he has gone on some other errand."

"While the city is in crisis!" Lang said, "Are you sure? Are you telling me we missed the boat because he decided to lose it in the mid—"

"Don't say anything about Miles Edgeworth!" Franziska said, "We will find him."

Lang looked at the group of young women surrounding him in the tiny living room of Maggey's apartment. This really seemed like the absolute worst situation he could possibly find himself in.

* * *

_**A/N: Thanks for reading!**_

So this story isn't very popular-crossovers aren't popular to begin with. I've also been told that my writing is kind of bad and confusing to read. I'm working on it. Somehow, I believe in this story. Despite all of the discouraging things I've been told or that I'm feeling from the lack of attention, I still think that this story ought to be finished. I would beg for a review, but after three months, I just don't think anyone cares. 

_So what? I keep telling myself that none of that matters. Because I'm writing this for me. (It's kind of hard to do-lol)_

_It's funny how just one discouraging word makes all of the others seem irrelevant. Perhaps this is the kind of story I need to put energy into. The kind that no one will read-unless they are truly interested. _

_But enough of that..._

* * *

This chapter is sort of my bridge. Part 1 was planned for five chapters, but I fear it may go a couple chapters over-just to cover what I want to cover. The Great Panic spanned a couple of years in the book, WWZ. This is kind of glossing over the beginning part of it. Also a reminder of the AA timeline that I'm using. Phoenix was disbarred in April-ish of 2019. The entirety of events from AA:Investigations took place in March of 2019. Investigations 2 is being quietly ignored because I haven't played it (ahem! CAPCOM should release that in the States. Please and thank you.)


	4. Chapter 3: Enter the Blade

**Part 1**

**Chapter 03**

**Enter the Blade**

* * *

**May 8, 2052**

**Stand Up! SoCal**

**Southern California Greater Metropolis, California**

* * *

**[Franziska glares coldly at me for several long silent moments before, finally, answering the question.]**

He was not mad.

**[So why did he refuse the chance for escape?]**

You say that as if you knew where those ships were going. But I'm telling you, those ships went nowhere. They were a safety net. A lie. No one that boarded any of those ships is alive today. I guarantee it. Not a one.

They were foolish to rely on so hopeless an escape. Ships of foolish fools…

I think he knew it would turn out like that. Lang likes to imply that Miles was mad or soft or weak, but he wasn't. I think Miles understood better than all of us just how bad things were.

**[How long did it take you to find him?]**

Too long.

We formed a group in those early months—those of us who worked with the police in that district. We hoped that staying together in a large number would make us safer. For the first several weeks we stayed in the county prison.

It seems like a joke now. We were jurists and law enforcement officers, living in those cells. Suddenly it was desirable to be behind bars. Lang organized us into teams. Each team would go out to look for food or medicine and other supplies while the rest of us guarded our base—yes, the prison.

I was on the "Away Team" that day, when we encountered the people from Ivy University. They had a much bigger operations base and much more people. So Lang decided that we should join with them to increase our chances of surviving.

We gathered all that we could carry, and set out across the city to go to the University. It took us more than a week to cross the city.

**[Did you encounter any of the infected?]**

What kind of stupid question is that?

**[I catch myself cringing when she raises her whip, but she doesn't strike me. Instead she closes her eyes]**

There were many of them. For most of our journey, we followed the freeway. It was the most direct path toward the University. There were so many cars on the highway. Abandoned. Empty.

But not all of them were empty. Some of them had ghouls trapped inside. We stayed together and did our best to avoid any encounters.

But there were still monsters that had to be killed. I was not a killer. So I found it difficult at first. Then Lang reminded me that if Miles was alive, he was facing these monsters all by himself.

I told myself that every one I destroyed was one less that might attack my little brother.

Eventually, we made it to the University. Like I said, it took more than a week—almost two.

**[What about Edgeworth?]**

We stayed at the compound to recover for several weeks. Then a group of us decided to go out and look for him.

Shi Long Lang, Kay Faraday, and myself. There were a couple of others in the group—I don't remember who they were.

We had to carry all of our food and supplies. So we tried our best to pack light—to stay mobile. Lang was very good about preparations. He really was an asset to the group.

**[For the first time, since I started interviewing her, Franziska smiles. It's subtle, but it's a smile]**

Don't tell that fool I said so.

**[She's suddenly serious.]**

We left from the University and headed west toward the city. After three days we returned to the compound. Then we'd rest and for a day or two and try again. It was the fifth excursion out that we found him.

I don't know why I have to remind Lang not to underestimate my little brother.

* * *

**October 24, 2019**

**University Hills**

**Los Angeles, California**

* * *

"Stay together," Lang said, "If you see something, call it out."

They marched in a file, Lang at the head and Larry Butz in the rear. Franziska, Kay, Bobbie and Maggey were in the middle. Each of them carried a weapon—a sharpened stave, a shovel, or a crowbar. Lang and Kay both had guns.

The worst of the hordes had cannibalized and rotted in the long months since the evacuation of Los Angeles. But there were still pockets of them buried in the rubble of the city, so they were forced to move slowly and secure each point on their way.

Franziska was surprised to note they'd entered the area of the district courthouse. Kay shot her a meaningful look. Franziska shrugged it off, she was not going to let any frivolous emotions—like hope—cloud her judgment.

"Lang! Three o'clock," Kay said and pointed. The girl seemed to enjoy this too much. Franziska gripped her shovel and halted with the rest of the party.

The moaning was what chilled her blood. This she would never get used to.

"Stay with me," Lang said and continued forward, "It's headed in the other direction."

Franziska had to shove Kay with the handle of her shovel. The girl was transfixed on the ghouls prowling their vicinity.

"Keep moving," she said.

It was around midday when they reached the courthouse itself. Franziska could only stare for a while.

There was something tragic and final—more so than the fallen city lying in ruin and decay around them—in seeing the courthouse crumbled as it was. Here was a hall of justice. Here was a temple of truth. Nothing echoed more loudly the extent to which the world had ended than to see it like that.

Franziska startled at the sudden and mournful wail that echoed through the rubble around them. Only when Lang had grabbed her and clamped his big hand over her mouth, did she realize it was coming from her. A Von Karma wouldn't scream like that.

The world was ended. Many things were happening that shouldn't.

* * *

**May 8, 2052**

**Stand Up! SoCal**

**Southern California Greater Metropolis, California**

* * *

_Apollo Justice is Phoenix Wright's… well… His right-hand man in the administration of Stand Up! SoCal. He has a friendly disposition and a powerful moustache. Several times. While we were speaking, he would pause and run a comb through that moustache. It was intriguing to say the least._

**[Do you remember the Great Panic?]**

Oh yeah. I was fifteen when everything started, and I was living in an orphanage. It was crazy. One or two of the staff stuck around, but most of them stopped showing up to work in the early days—I mean early, like that reporter hadn't come out and broadcast her exclusive. You know the story? The one that basically destroyed the world?

**[So how did you survive?]**

We holed up in the home. There were about twenty-six of us—boys with no families—plus the couple of staff that stayed behind. They kind of ran things like a school, I guess… Or a military barracks. I don't know. But we had food and supplies to last several weeks. So we just stayed put and barricaded all the windows and doors.

I think we went on like that for about two months. Maybe a little more. Things started to run short. That's when we came up with a plan to get food and supplies from out in town. It was usually the older guys that went. I was fifteen, and kind of small, so I never went. Well, anyway, that bought us a couple more weeks.

**[Then what happened?]**

One of the guys, Brad, he came home with a lot of commotion.

* * *

**October 12, 2019**

**Central **

**Los Angeles, California**

* * *

He'd been running for days now.

He couldn't stop moving. He'd had very little to eat or drink aside fromwhat he was able to scavenge as he moved. But it just wasn't safe for him anymore. He'd been abandoned. He was stranded. Alone.

Apollo had been barricaded in the home with the other boys he'd lived with and the staff. They'd managed to ration food and other supplies kept on hand for almost three months, but they were running out. Going out into the city was a choice they didn't make on their own. It had been necessary.

No one noticed anything odd about Brad—aside from him favoring his right led and not wanting to talk about how he's managed to return with a dozen cans of Vienna sausages and some Ritz crackers. No one even wanted to imply that something like that might have happened. So no one asked. Or checked.

And then it was too late.

Apollo was a small kid. At fifteen, he was still a head shorter than most of the guys his age. His mean stature, short and thin, was probably what allowed him to slip away unnoticed when Brad lost his shit and started biting the others.

All he could do was run. So he ran.

He couldn't even remember how long it had been. Three days; four. Maybe it's been a week. He had to keep moving, even though he had no idea where he was heading.

He didn't even recognize this part of the city. He'd never been so far from the home.

Still, he had to keep running.

They said that a zombie couldn't catch you when you ran. They just didn't shuffle that fast. But then, zombies never got tired. Apollo was exhausted. Running on fumes, so to speak.

When he saw the cave formed of a slab of concrete from where the sidewalk had been destroyed by an out of control National Guard tank, he thought it looked inviting. There was nothing or no one in the vicinity, he would be safe there. He might rest a little.

Apollo stopped running. He looked around and saw nothing he recognized, just an empty city street—foreign in its stillness. In the rubble he found a piece of something metal, twisted and blackened by fire. He didn't know what it was, but he picked it up and walked toward the mouth of the little 'cave' he'd found. He was just so tired.

Apollo poked his piece of scrap into the mouth of the hole in the sidewalk. Nothing happened. So he pushed in closer until the whole of the metal scrap was inserted into the cave. He moved it around. It scraped the back of the crevice—it was not very roomy in there. But it was empty, and Apollo was sure he could fit far enough inside to hide himself.

He threw the scrap aside and crawled inside. It was cool and dark but he had a clear view of the rubble-strewn street he'd just departed. Apollo sighed deeply. His fear kept him vigilant for longer than he'd hoped and he sat there long enough to watch the sun sink away in his periphery. Then he slept.

It was the moaning that startled him awake only a few hours later. The low, mindless call chilled him to the core and sent tremors of fear throughout his body. That sound meant death. Apollo gasped and shoved himself as far back into his shelter as he could. His heart was racing and his hands were starting to tingle and go numb.

In the weak light of the waning moon he saw the first staggering movement. A shadow broke out from amongst other shadows. It moved slowly, winding through the rubble. Apollo hugged himself against his shaking and the racking sobs that threatened to escape him. He had to stay quiet. He had to stay still.

Maybe it would move on past him.

He heard it sniff the air. Wind whistling through the rotted hole in its face. Apollo clamped his hands over his mouth. He was afraid to breathe.

Another shambling figure joined the first. This one let out a rattling moan. Like something dry was hanging in its throat. If it even had much of a throat left.

He'd heard that they didn't really communicate. They lacked the thought processes necessary for speech let alone socialization. So he couldn't understand why they always moved in groups. Eventually this group turned up seven individuals. They shuffled and sniffed in the vicinity of his hideout. He watched them, transfixed; and wondered if this would be the last thing he would see before he died.

Apollo started to calm down. There was nothing he could do. He'd cornered himself, and it was only a matter of time before they found him. He resigned himself to his fate, and somehow, that relaxed him even more. Apollo took his hands away from his face and stretched out as much as he could in that small space.

An eighth figure climbed up a particularly tall heap of rubble and stood still, framed in the moonlight. This one wasn't shambling like the others. Apollo's breath caught in his throat.

A strong breeze blew through the street, bringing with it the pungency of decay. The stranger was holding something that reflected the moonlight with a metallic glint.

"Hoi!" he shouted.

Apollo startled and banged his head on the low concrete ceiling of his shelter; that guy was insane!

The ghouls turned to face the newcomer. They began to moan in an eerie chorus. Apollo wanted to shut his eyes. He couldn't.

* * *

**October 24, 2019**

**University Hills**

**Los Angeles, California**

* * *

"Miles!" Franziska screamed at him and started to run in his direction.

Lang grabbed her arm and pulled her back so hard she nearly fell into the rubble. She fell into Lang instead.

"Don't," he whispered harshly, "That might not be him."

Franziska struggled against his hold, "That's him! I'd know him anywhere—"

"It might not be him," Lang repeated and she fought him for a moment longer before realizing what he meant.

"Not Miles…" she said.

Lang released her and waved at Kay to stay beside her. Both Maggey and Kay moved toward her. Lang grimaced at them and started walking toward the lone figure.

He was standing with his back to them a top the crest of the hill overlooking the courthouse. Lang recognized that jacket, stained and ragged though it was—only Miles Edgeworth would insist on a jacket like that.

"Edgeworth?" Lang said.

He turned his head and Lang recognized his profile amidst his dirty and tangled hair.

"Tell me you haven't been looking for me," Edgeworth said. His voice was low and rasping—as if it had gone rusty with torpor.

"I wasn't," Lang said and he couldn't help the wide grin that split his face, "But if I hadn't come along, who knows what kind of trouble Franziska might have gotten into."

Edgeworth put his head down and turned around slowly. Lang's eyes widened when he saw what Edgeworth had in his hands.

"Is that a sword, Edgeworth?"

Edgeworth slowly eased his stance and brought the blade down by his side. He nodded. Lang grinned again.

"I think it's a replica," Edgeworth said, "I cannot seem to keep a proper edge on it. It's starting to rust as well."

He seemed incongruously calm, like they were discussing the weather during a chance meeting in the street. His speech and tone rang in glaring contrast to his disheveled appearance. He looked harried and wild, with his battered suit hanging from his too thin frame and his hair overgrown and hanging in his face, his jaw marred by the sparse growth of his beard.

"Come," Lang said, "I don't like being out here."

"I can't go with you," Edgeworth said.

* * *

_**A/N: Thanks for reading!**_

_I want to extend a special thank you to my "Guest" reviewer. I have no idea what your review says or means, but it's nice to finally get a review on this story. To GODLIKETURNABOUT, thanks for your support!_


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